


My Petersburg

by LunarLullabies



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Family Feels, I love Dmitry and because if that he must suffer, This poor boy has been through it, remember when the fandom wanted him to have a sister? Well now he has one...for a while anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:55:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarLullabies/pseuds/LunarLullabies
Summary: "Life has not been easy for Dmitry.""Life has not been easy for anyone."~Or, a tenfold backstory
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My father used to bring me here. He'd put me on his shoulders so I could have a better view. 'Bet you could see all the way to Finland from up there, Dima!.'"  
> "Dima?!"  
> "That's what he called me. There isn't a day I don't miss him."

_1902, Age 3_

The lights looked like stars. As far as he could see they shined and danced and lit the sky like jewels. From his father’s shoulders, it was the most beautiful thing Dmitry had ever seen.

“I bet you can see all the way to Finland from up there, Dima!” Nikolai laughed with his son. Almost every night, this was their routine; once it was dark and the weather was clear, the pair would stand outside and watch as Petersburg fell asleep. Dmitry would sit tall upon his father’s shoulders and watch the sky come to life, dreaming of the places those stars could lead to. And then that time would end, and Nikolai would walk with his son back to their home.

“I believe your mother is waiting.”

Inside it was warm and quiet. Dmitry ran to his mother and she pulled him swiftly into her arms. “It’s time for bed, my child.” Valentina carried her son to his bed while her husband turned out the lights.

“Close your eyes.”

Dmitry smiled and did as he was told. Valentina stroked her son’s hair and sang quietly, lulling him to sleep. Every night went this way, with Nikolai putting out the lamps while Valentina sang their son to sleep. She sang him the lullabies that Nikolai knew, knowing that while he would never admit to it, he would quietly hum along to her voice. Her voice was soft and safe, and to Dmitry, perfect.

_“I will die from longing,_  
_Inconsolably waiting,_  
_I will pray the whole day long._  
_And at night I’ll tell you wonders,_  
_I will think that you are in trouble_  
_Far away in a foreign land.”_

Dmitry felt his eyes grow heavy, and he let himself begin to fall into a comforted sleep. But not before he felt his mother’s kiss upon his forehead and heard her finish her song.

_“Sleep now, as long as you don’t know sorrows,_  
_Bayushki bayu.”_

~

The sun was bright for the first day after a week of rain, and Dmitry walked with his father and mother through the streets. “Dima,” his father’s voice broke through the comfortable silence. “Your mother and I have some good news for you.” Dmitry stopped and looked up at his mother. She sat with him on a bench by a fountain and smiled.

“ _Moya radost_ , you are going to be a brother. I’m going to have another baby!” 

Valentina held her son’s hands and watched as it ran through his mind. Dmitry had never questioned his family, had never wanted anything more than what he had. He loved his parents, he was happy, and that was enough. He had never considered if he was lonely (in part because he was almost too young to be) but still he understood what his mother was telling him and he was happy.

“I’m a brother!” The boy beamed. Nikolai laughed and lifted his son.  
“This means responsibilities, Dmitry. You’re practically an adult now!”  
Dmitry scrunched an eyebrow. “Responserbilldies?” Valentina laughed as he fumbled over the word.

“Yes, Dima. But it also means that you will never have to be alone again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My mother was already gone. I don't really remember her."

_ 1903, Age 4 _

Screams and cries echoed through the small house. Nikolai paced the living room, running his hands through his hair. Dmitry sat at the table, watching his father. He didn’t know what was happening, but his mother was crying and his father was nervous. Dmitry thought everything in their home was perfect.

_ Why is everyone scared? _

The boy stood up and went to his father to ask what was happening when a sharp cry broke the silent tension. A moment later, a woman that Dmitry didn’t know walked out, covered in blood but smiling. Dmitry hid behind his father as the woman spoke.

“Congratulations, Nikolai Antonovich. A beautiful girl!”

Nikolai smiled wildly and thanked the woman before taking Dmitry by the hand.

“You now have a sister.”

Walking with his father to the back room, Dmitry could see his mother in the dim light. He ran towards her, excited to see his mother wasn’t hurt after hearing her yelling. In her arms was a bundle of blankets. Nikolai kissed her and pushed aside a corner of fabric to see his daughter’s face.

“Mama? Can I see the baby?”

“Of course, Dima.”

His father lifted him up onto the bed and he looked at the small child. Dmitry thought she looked like a matryoshka doll with her rosy cheeks. She had a tuft of brown hair, and she opened her eyes to reveal small green diamonds.

“Mama, what’s her name?”

Valentina looked to her husband and smiled. “Katerina. Katerina Nikolaevna and Dmitry Nicholaevich, my two angels.” Dmitry smiled and watched the small infant in his mother’s arms. Dmitry never wanted more from his family before, but now he felt as though everything was perfect.

~

Days had passed since Katerina had been born, but Valentina was unable to leave the bed. Nikolai stayed by her side after her fever came, his eyes more serious and sad than they had been in years. Dmitry stood next to his father with his sister in his arms, terrified. He had never seen his mother so sick or his father so scared. 

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you so sick?”

Valentina gave a small smile. “This can happen after a woman has a baby.”

She spoke slowly, she was weak. Nikolai held her hand.

“Val, please.”

“Nik, you’re a good man. I love you.”

“I love you too, my  _ zvezda _ .” There was a catch in his voice. Dmitry turned to his mother, not understanding what was happening. 

“I love you too, Mama!”

She smiled at her son. “Dmitry, I love you more than words. Please, remember your lullaby. Remember your mother.”

She closed her eyes, and Dmitry broke his father’s heart. “Papa, why is Mama sleeping?”

Nikolai took a deep breath and turned to his son. “She’s gone to rest with the angels now, Dima. Please, bring your sister out and wait there, I’ll be out shortly.”

Dmitry did as he was told. As soon as he left the room, his father closed the door. He heard his crying. He laid Katerina in her cradle and sat in front of the fire.

_ Papa is crying and mama is gone. _

_ I miss mama. _

_ We were happy a few days ago. _

And that night, for the first night in Dmitry’s life, the only thing that could be heard from their house was silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My father was an anarchist. He died in a labor camp for his convictions."  
> "Who raised you, then?"  
> "No one."

_ 1907, Age 8 _

Again, Dmitry was the one to bring his sister to bed. His father was an anarchist, that much he knew. But that didn’t mean anything to him. All he understood about it was that Nikolai was gone more often than he was home. When he was, he always told him stories, teaching him about the world and the government. He knew there was a family that was so rich and could do anything for Russia, but instead kept their luxury to themselves.

_ If I was as rich as them, maybe I would be selfish too. _ Of course, how was he to really know what it would ever be like to have the chance at that amount of money.

Dmitry brought the covers over his sister and turned to leave when he felt her pulling on his sleeve.

“Dmitry, why is it always you putting me to bed? Where’s Papa?”

“Working.”

“Then what about a mother to do it like Paulina has?”

Dmitry took a deep breath. He and their father knew she would ask that soon. Four years later, half of Dmitry’s life, and Nikolai still wasn’t ready to talk about her.

“Mama hasn’t been here since you were born. I’m sorry you never knew her. She was wonderful.”

“Tell me about her?”

“Only if you go to sleep after, okay, Katya?”

“Okay, Dima.”

Dmitry sat on the edge of her small bed. He racked his brain thinking about what to say. Truthfully, he didn’t remember his mother much at all. He was young when she died, the same age as Kat now, and the chaos of helping his father meant he didn’t have time for reminiscing. There was so little he felt like he could accurately tell her, but he owed her at least that much.

“Mama’s name was Valentina. Papa always said she was the most beautiful woman in all of Russia. You have her eyes.”

Katerina smiled. “She sounds like a princess!”

“Don’t say that near our father. He doesn’t care much for the Romanovs. Now, you told me you would go to bed after I told you about her.”

He watched his sister sink into her bed and pull up the old blanket.

“Goodnight, Dima.”

“Goodnight. Maybe I’ll tell you more in the morning.”

Dmitry went to put out the fire, but he was stopped when he saw his father waiting.

“I heard you telling her about your mother. Thank you, Dima. I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

“It wasn’t very good. I don’t really remember her.”

Nikolai put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Dima. I’m proud of you. Only eight and already the most responsible person I know. I’m sorry you’ve had to grow up so fast. Goodnight, my boy. I love you.”

Dmitry began walking to his room when he suddenly heard humming from behind him. It was a song he hadn’t heard in years. His father was humming the old lullaby. They hadn’t sung it since Valentina died, and Dmitry had forgotten how comforting it was. So much so that he forgot to question why his father was acting so strange. Dmitry let the memory of his mother’s voice lull him to sleep.

~

Bangs like thunder woke Dmitry. Slipping silently out of his bed, he opened his door with caution, pearing his head out. He saw royal guards aiming guns at his father, and he froze in panic.

“Papa?”

Nikolai turned to his son, his eyes full of defiance and sorrow. “Dima, go keep your sister in her room.”

Dmitry remained still until the sight of guns scared him into action. Opening her door, Dmitry saw Katerina sitting on her bed.

“I heard banging and Papa shouting. I was too scared to leave.”

Dmitry sat beside her. “Good, we don’t want you leaving. We’re going to stay here.”

_ Something feels wrong. Why was Papa acting so funny? Did he know this was going to happen? _

The two children sat in silence for a few moments before there was another bang followed by more shouting. Dmitry bolted to his feet.

“Kat, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Dmitry opened the door and ran to find his father. He was met by a guard who held the boy back. Dmitry struggled against him as he watched his father being dragged away.

“Papa! Papa!”

Nikolai fought to turn his head to face his son. His face wore an expression Dmitry didn’t recognize, but would someday learn all too well as “asking for forgiveness.”

“Dima! Take care of your sister. I love you both.”

The guard yanked Nikolai ahead, turning his head away. Tears clouded Dmitry’s vision and his father vanished from sight. The guard restraining him let go and looked him in the eyes. He had a sympathetic look, but it wasn’t genuine. It was as though he had been trained to be approachable for children.

“Your father will be just fine. He unfortunately holds beliefs that Tsar Nicholas does not agree with, and it is his orders that men like your father be taken to a special camp to rid themselves of these dangerous thoughts. He will return to you shortly.”

Dmitry never saw his father again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I bowed to someone once."  
> "There, you admit it!"  
> "I was a boy, I didn't know any better."

_ 1909, Age 10 _

The heat of the sun made walking through crowds miserable, the lack of clouds preventing any relief. Dmitry made his way through the streets and alleys, his hands slipping into bags and purses. Over the two years without their father, Dmitry and his sister had gotten quite good at taking what they needed. The two stood in an alley, just around from the main road and people.

“Can you check the other street alone? There are more people than usual, I can’t have you getting hurt.” Dmitry trusted his sister, but she was only six.

_ What was I thinking by bringing her today? She’s a child.  _ He failed to realize that he was only one, too.

“I’ll be okay,” Katerina smiled proudly. “More people is more money, right?”

He smiled. “Right. The Tsar and his family are having a parade today. All of Petersburg is here. We need to be careful and fast, so as soon as the Romanov family goes by, we meet back here and get out. Okay? Be careful.”

Katerina nodded and they turned in their own directions. They split up and slipped into the crowds. Dmitry watches his little sister vanish into the group and let himself get lost as well. He was making good progress, his bag getting heavier with coins. 

_ Why do so many people care about this parade so much, anyway?  _ Dmitry knew so little about the Romanovs, only their names. His father never gave him any firm beliefs and if he had tried, Dmitry was too young to understand. To him, all they were were a rich family, but why wouldn’t the Tsar be rich?

_ Maybe today I’ll figure out why people care so much. _

He fought his way to the front of the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever Russia was so excited about. He saw beautiful floats and heard music, and he admitted to being impressed. But still, music and floats hardly seemed worth the suffocating commotion. Dmitry was about to start getting back to the alley when something, or someone, caught his eye. Looking closer, squinting in the sun, Dmitry could see a young girl on a float. He saw other figures around her, but he only focused on her. 

_ Anastasia.  _ He smiled.  _ Wouldn’t it be nice to live like that?  _ Dmitry paused for a moment as he stared. _ She’s so much prettier than Papa had made them seem. _

Dmitry was young and impulsive, and he had never seen anyone as beautiful to him as Anastasia. Without thinking, he started running along the road, trying to catch up to the float. 

“Anastasia! Princess Anastasia!”

He thought he saw a small crack in her demeanor. She was serious, standing straight and proud, but she too was a child, and children cannot behave all of the time. Dmitry called out to her again, finally stopping as he stood at the front of the crowd in line with the float.

“Anastasia!”

He watched her turn to him, a smile plastering her face, the crack in her royal demeanor meant only for him. Her family wasn’t listening to him amongst the cheers of everyone else, and they didn’t notice the girl breaking her composure for the boy. Anastasia smiled and Dmitry froze. 

And then, he bowed. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but Dmitry knew it was what you do when you meet someone important. As he stood straight, he realized the float was already past him. He tried looking for Anastasia again, but she had returned to her regal state. Dmitry was lost in his mind for a moment.

_ I just bowed to the Grand Duchess. And she smiled at me! _

Somehow, everything Nikolai had mentioned to his son, however small, didn’t make sense. How can you hate the child who didn’t do anything wrong other than risk a smile to a poor boy?

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and then he remembered Katerina. Dmitry fought his way back to the alley, relieved to see his sister had gotten back safely.

“Why do you look so happy?” Katerina looked at him, confused.

“I think I found some good things, that’s all.” He lied, wanting to keep his moment with the princess for himself. He took his sister by the hand and they started making their way out of town, Dmitry thinking of the parade the entire walk back.

_ I’m gonna find her again. Someday. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was me, or a Bolshevik firing squad."  
> "You saved my life."  
> "A rash act of kindness, completely out of character."

_ 1917, Age 18 _

Russia was never going to be the same. 

“Stay here, we’ll be fine.” Dmitry pulled his sister to the ground. The riots grew louder and more violent, and it was no longer safe to just wander the streets of Russia. 

“Dmitry, what’s going on?” Katerina was careful to keep her voice low. 

“I wish I knew.”

The two made their way through back alleys until they arrived at their small house. They were starving and tired, but it was impossible to find food with new and quickly enacted rules. 

“Dima, is it true that the Romanovs aren’t in power anymore? Is that why this is happening?”

“Where did you hear about that?”

“The women at the shops had been whispering about it. They told me not to ask any questions.”

Dmitry hung his head. He had hoped to keep her away from the gossip and people until everything was more clear. But he also knew there was no point in lying to her. “Our great and mighty Tsar has been arrested,” sarcasm dripped from his mouth before he became serious. “We’re in the middle of a revolution, Katya. There is no one to lead, and this is what happens when people like us demand change. Petersburg is in chaos, we’re all hungry, and nobody knows what is going to happen.” 

_ And the entire Romanov family is being held. I wonder if Anastasia is still as beautiful as she was when we were children. _

Katerina looked at her brother. He had taken care of her for as long as she could remember, and now he looked defeated. She so rarely heard him sound so scared and unsure, and that scared her the most. She took her brother’s hand.

“Let me try to get food. You should sleep.”

Dmitry looked her in the eyes. “No. You will stay here, where it’s safe. You’re fourteen, do you know what could happen to you out there alone? I’ll go out, please just stay here.”

Kat nodded and handed Dmitry a small amount of money. “Maybe buying something honestly will be safer right now.”

“I doubt it. Nobody out there cares about money, they care about the future of Russia. If there even is one after this.” Dmitry went outside and back to the crowded streets. Fighting through the protests and riots, he saw Bolshevik guards in the distance. Daring to go closer, Dmitry found himself walking towards the scene. He could see a line of Bolsheviks, and a scared man in front of them. The man seemed well dressed, no doubt a former member of court to the Romanovs. Dmitry then saw the group of Bolshevik’s clearer. 

_ Firing squad. _

He knew they were different men, but the uniforms and guns only reminded Dmitry of the men who took his father away. For a moment, he lost himself in the memory of Nikolai. He didn’t realise he was still watching what was before him. Dmitry felt sorry for the man, but he knew he couldn’t stay any longer without getting into more trouble than he would be able to get out of. Then, the man’s eyes caught his. Something in them called to Dmitry, something kind and mischievous and real. Mostly, Dmitry could see his fear, the same fear he saw in his father’s eyes.

_ Damn. I can’t just let him die after he saw me. _

The Bolshevik’s raised their guns, and the man tensed his shoulders. Dmitry ran up to them, yelling and pleading.

“Please! Please don’t! He’s my uncle, please!”

One of the revolutionaries looked at the young man. “Sir, do you know who this is? He was a member of the royal court, and for that he is being executed.”

“No, no please! He’s my uncle, he was never part of any court! He is a very confused man, he gets away from us and gets caught up in whatever is happening all the time. ” Dmitry let the emotion he still harbored for his father take over, and it seemed to work. He was no stranger to lying to get what he wanted, but he doubted he was going to sway the man based solely on his charisma and charming face. The gunman signaled for the rest of the firing squad to lower their weapons.

“Young man, how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Why would I want to save someone who served the man who had my father killed?” Dmitry inhaled deeply after saying that. It was the one bit of truth he had about the Tsar, the only thing he could truly hold against the Romanovs. Dmitry looked back to the Count and assessed him. Something about that man called to Dmitry. “He’s my uncle. The day I lost my father, he lost his brother.” Then, for what felt like the first time, Dmitry tried telling the truth. “Please, it’s only me and my sister left.”

_ Please believe me. _

The gunman nodded and gestured for the scared noble to come towards them. 

“I’m very sorry for the confusion. Now, be on your way, Comrade.”

Dmitry and the well dressed man took off. Once safely away from the Bolsheviks and rioting crowds, they stopped.

“Thank you, young man. Thank you.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is - was - Count Vladimir Popov.”

“Well, Popov, don’t expect any more favors. I have to go.”

“Please, what is your name?”

The man had a kindness about him that Dmitry had hardly ever seen. 

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I must know. Please.”

“Dmitry. Now, have a nice day, Comrade.” Dmitry walked off, leaving the ex-count behind. With the sun setting, Dmitry found some bread and made his way back to the house. Katerina, blessed with the time to be curious, pestered her brother.

“Dima, what is it like out there?”

“Loud and violent, just like you saw earlier.”

“So there was nothing different out there at all?”

“Why do you care?”

“I just...I wanted to hope that there was something good left.”

Dmitry pulled his sister to his side. Despite being strong and smart, he had always thought she was too kind and hopeful for everything they faced. 

“There is.” Dmitry gave her a cunning and arrogant look. “I didn’t want you getting worried, but I’ll have you know that I saved a man from a firing squad. He said he was Count Popov. So there is still some good, Katya.”

She laughed. “You? Saved a man from a Bolshevik firing squad? I’m not stupid, Dima.”

Dmitry smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. But what else was I going to tell you?”

_ What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we just casually skip almost a decade of his life because let's be real, not much of note was going to happen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want to believe you're that little girl I met so many years ago."

_ 1918, Age 19 _

“Have you heard?” An older woman whispered to another. “There are rumors of a plan to rescue the Romanov family.”

Dmitry rolled his eyes and continued walking.

_ Yes, because the starving and weaponless will be able to rescue an entire family watched by armed guards. That’ll go well. _

The sky was gray and yet the summer heat was relentless. It was an insult to injury, when the dehydrated and malnourished begin to sweat out the rest of the liquid in their body. He didn’t know if somehow rescuing the Romanovs would help anybody, but it was a comforting thought. The idea that he could wake up and everything would go back to the way it was. He didn’t care about the Romanovs, but he had had a moment with one of them. He could still see Anastasia’s bright blue eyes and mischievous smile. She had proven to him in that moment that she was different from the rest of her family. She was brave and independent and funny. To Dmitry, that made her someone worth saving.

His sighed as his stomach curled in pain, knowing he was unlikely to find much food. He was smart and creative and charming, but he couldn’t steal or trick people into giving him money anymore. Nobody had any to get.

Dmitry hadn’t paid attention to his wandering, and froze when he heard gunshots. Russia was in a civil war between “Whites” and “Reds.” Dmitry did his best to avoid the political situations. His only concern was Katerina. 

_ They can fight all they want, but they won’t win. Nobody wins here. _

Turning back, there was more shouting, although it was different than the sounds of fighting. This sounded like anger and surprise. Making his way closer, he could hear fragments of conversations. The topic was the same.

“Murdered.”

“All of them.”

“So long.”

“Excuse me?” Dmitry was curious. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” A dirty man addressed him. “The Romanovs have been executed.”

“Yes, bless their souls. I heard it wasn’t quick, either.” It seemed the entire crowd of people wanted to inform Dmitry of the gruesome details, of the bayonets and blood and desperate screaming, as though they had all been there and now each told their own version of the massacre. But one woman’s words caught Dmitry off guard.

“Apparently she stuck her tongue out at one of the gunmen in the morning.”

Dmitry raised his eyebrow. “Who?”

“The Grand Duchess, Anastasia.” The woman spoke as though she had known the young Tsarina herself. He knew he had no right to, but Dmitry suddenly felt upset. 

_ Anastasia is actually dead. _

Dmitry had paid very little attention to the Imperial family, not having seen photos of Anastasia since she grew up. To him, he only saw the clean and regal little girl from the parade covered in blood and screaming. Anastasia was just older than Katerina, and quickly the image of the young Princess was replaced with his sister. Despite knowing there was nothing to worry about, Dmitry shook the thought away and raced to their home.

Katerina was waiting for Dmitry when he arrived and she saw the worry in his face.

“Dima? Is something wrong?”

“No. I was just thinking. The Romanov family was killed today.”

“They deserve it though, right? They were the reason Papa was taken.”

Dmitry quietly agreed, but he couldn’t get the images out of his head.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are some who survive, some who don't. Some give up, some give in. Me, I won't."

_ 1921, Age 22 _

Dmitry woke in a sweat, despite being freezing. His stomach hurt worse now than it ever had, and for a brief moment, he let himself entertain the idea of death. Surely it would be nicer than this? He shook his head, angry with himself for even thinking about it. He could hear whimpering through the thin walls and went to his sister’s room.

“Katya?” 

She was there, but she didn’t have much of a choice. They were in the height of the worst famine Europe had ever seen. Katerina, like so many other countless Russians, got sick, and without food, recovery wasn’t going to happen. She was just bones. Dmitry sat down next to her, holding her hand in his. She had spent days in delirium and half consciousness, and anybody who had witnessed the toll that was taken on the country knew what was inevitable. Still, Katerina made herself stronger than others, even at her mortal weakest. She would force herself to talk, to try to pay attention as best she could because if she didn’t, then she was giving up.

“Katya? I can find something if you need it.”

“No. Save it for yourself.” Dmitry felt his heart drop when she spoke.

Kat tried to squeeze his hand. “You’re sweaty. Dima, what have you seen?” She was a brilliant young lady, always putting her brother before her. She knew when something was bothering him, and she knew there were things she couldn’t understand.

Dmitry took a deep breath. “I’ve seen too much.” He felt a lump in his throat, and he was silent. His entire life was spent keeping her safe, trying to keep her as innocent as possible.

_ What’s the point now? _

“Children are nothing, being eaten by wild animals. People are eating clay and straw.” Horrible memories clouded Dmitry’s vision, his voice catching on sorrow and rage. “Parents are killing their children in mercy, and being told that they aren’t truly starving unless they eat the corpses. They wanted all of us to be equal. Well, we are. You can’t be any more equal than when you’re all dead.” He was talking to himself by the end.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, the only noise coming from the snow blowing around outside. 

_ How did we get here? _

The silence felt so long. A sudden terror came to Dmitry, and he felt his heart start to race.

“Katya? Kat!” She weakly opened her eyes and looked at him. He was skinnier than ever before, dirty and sad. Dmitry was a mess, but she was somehow still beautiful. Her face was sunken in and her body frail, but her eyes were still bright.

“Who called you Dima?”

“What?”

“Who was the first person?”

He thought for a moment before surrendering. “I don’t really remember. Our father, I guess.”

“You remind me of him.”

“Do you even remember him?”

“You are all I know. You have raised me, Dima.”

There was another moment of silence. And then there was a heavy, soul crushing feeling in the room. It was dark and cold. Dmitry’s heart fell and his brain seemed to shut down before jumping into overdrive. He wanted to yell, but he knew it was pointless. He turned to his sister, and her green eyes had finally lost their spark. They were glassy and empty. Dmitry tried to blink back tears to no avail as a lingering sense surrounded him.

It was so...mundane. He didn’t remember his mother’s demise, and he wasn’t there for his father’s. But Katerina was different. She was strong, smart and amazing. For her to go like this, it felt wrong. Not only was she gone, but it was so simple and quiet. Nothing like her.

And yet, it happened. And she was gone.

The haunting and suffocating feeling had left the room, leaving it cold and more silent than ever. Sobs wracked Dmitry’s thin frame, each one hurting more than the last. He needed food and rest, but that didn’t matter to him. The next morning, Dmitry managed through the hunger and cold and dug a small grave behind the house. Katerina wasn’t going to be thrown in a mass grave, and she wasn’t going to be left for the wolves. 

He packed his things, and went off to find something - anything - to eat. He wasn’t going to return to that house. He didn’t need it to get by, and he had lost everyone that had made it worth living there. Dmitry didn’t let himself be distracted or defeated by this loss, there was no point. He felt different. 

_ Dima died with my sister. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A Russian rat is clever. Clever or he ends up dead."

_ 1924, Age 25 _

“Thank you!” The woman cried as she left, naïve and unaware.

“Of course! It was my pleasure!” Dmitry’s voice dripped charm and eagerness until the woman was gone.

_ You’re all a bunch of fools. _

He was clever and the citizens of Petersburg were desperate. So what if he told them a few white lies here and there? They got something they think they can sell, he gets to eat. Any old coat could have been Romanov, any broken mug a souvenir from that night.

_ It’s their fault if they can’t tell the difference. _

That was the cycle of his days. Wake up, make his money however he had to, and hope it was enough to see another day. He was one of the lucky ones; he was handsome and charismatic. Nobody wanted to be mad at him. Girls would let him off the hook for his crimes in exchange for a wink, women turning a blind eye after nothing more than a smile and a simple pleasantry. It was the men he had to be careful of, but at least there was honor amongst thieves. If they reported you, they would bring themselves down too.

It was tedious and dangerous, but so was every other way of life in Russia. At least his kept him fed.

Dmitry still watched the stars. They were a constant, his reminder that, somewhere, there was life outside of Petersburg.

_ I could have a house to myself. A job with a normal paycheck. Food and safety and a bed. _

Lost in his own self indulgent fantasies, the boy failed to notice the man until he walked into him. Conveniently, the man didn’t notice Dmitry either, his eyes and mind up in the stars as well.

“I’m so sorry, young man!” The older man began to apologize, but stopped himself as he looked at the boy. “You! You’re the boy who saved my life all those years ago.”

Dmitry looked away. “I wouldn’t say that so loudly, Comrade.”

“Dmitry.”

At this, he turned back to the man. “How do you know my name?”

The older man smiled. “You told me. Before you left, I asked for your name. I wasn’t likely to forget you. And besides, who doesn’t know the great Dmitry?!” Vlad laughed. “You’re famous around here, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m done doing business for today.”

Vlad sighed. “What a shame. Of course, I suppose all I’m missing out on is whatever was left in old thrown out trunks.”

Dmitry felt fear creep up his body.

_ If he knows, who did he tell? _

“Look, I don’t know what you think you -” Dmitry tried to explain before Vlad cut him off.

“I know you’re just a liar. Nobody can spot a liar like Vlad Popov.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I fooled the entire Imperial court into thinking I was a Count! And that I’m impressed by what you do, Dmitry.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “I’m a con artist, there’s nothing too special about that.”

Vlad’s eye lit up. “ Au contraire, my boy! When done right, a few simple tricks can be what separate us,” Vlad gestured between himself and Dmitry. “From them.” His hands lead Dmitry’s gaze to a man being hauled into the street by an officer.

“What are you saying?” Dmitry asked.

“I’m saying that I believe you and I could help each other.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They've closed another boarder. We should have gotten out of Russia while we still could!"

_ 1925, Age 26 _

Dmitry smirked at the dirty man before him. “It’s going to cost you a lot more than that if you want my help. Of course, you could always ask Ivan. I’ve heard he has  _ killer _ opportunities.” Dmitry quickly and subtly sliced his hands across his throat and the man relented. Besides him, Vlad stood and looked at the man with the look of ultimatum.

“Fine, fine. You win. I have the rest of the money.” The man reached into his pocket and produced the remaining funds, and in turn Vlad held the tickets in front of him. Payment and goods were traded over at the same time. Or that’s how it usually went.

The man grabbed the tickets while reaching to hand Dmitry the money, quickly doubling back on himself and running without payment. Without a moment of hesitation, Dmitry dropped his composure and sprinted after the man. It wasn’t a race - Dmitry was young and fit, and the man was obviously much older than he tried to seem. The young man caught up with him easily, grabbing him and taking back the stolen tickets. The older man cowered.

“I’m sorry! I’m desperate, please! If I don’t leave, they’re going to kill me.” Dmitry’s grip softened, but he didn’t let go.

“I risk getting myself killed every day for you people! Do you think it’s easy to get travel papers and train tickets when nearly every border out of Russian is closed?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll give you the money, please just let go of me.” With possession of the goods, it didn’t matter now if the man ran or not. Dmitry let go and watched relieved as the man fumbled around in his pockets once more. Finally, the old man stood and showed the money once more. But before the hand off could be made, the two were distracted by Vlad’s sudden appearance.

“We need to hurry! There are soldiers running checks, we need to relocate!”

_ Damnit, damnit, damnit! _

Dmitry looked at the man with urgency. “Just give me half and take it. You didn’t get these from me.” The man nodded and with the trade made, he ran off down the road. Dmitry and Vlad ran back to their hideaway, the younger throwing the money into his pocket. The two grabbed what they needed, tossing it all haphazardly into a trunk and left. Just up the street they could see Bolshevik soldiers banging on doors and peering down alleys. The young women who frequented the area all ran with their meager possessions, and Dmitry watched as every other no good street rat and con artist packed up and fled.

_St. Petersburg_ _ is nothing more than a scam now. _

The pair found themselves on the other side of the city, around a fire with others just like them. Though only barely, Dmitry could swear that he remembered some of the older men. He thought that he remembered one as a doctor, another as the owner of an old bookshop.

_ Hail our great new land. Leningrad, where the people of Petersburg are just as starving and even more miserable. _

As though reading the boy’s mind, Vlad placed a hand on Dmitry’s shoulder. “The Tsar was killed because people were afraid of ending up like us. Now he’s dead, and they’re even worse off. But us, we’re the ones who knew how to survive.”

“You were a Count.”

“I was a fraud. I’m good at adapting to whatever I need to. And you, my boy, need to remember that there is more to life than being angry about the past. Let's face it, we're here until we die at this point. We might as well get used to it."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You will announce the Grand Duchess, Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov."

_ 1927, Age 28 _

“I am the Grand Duchess, Anastasia Romanov.”

“Try it this time without the gum in your mouth.”

“It’s not gum, it’s tobacco.”

Dmitry rolled his eyes.

_ In all of Russia, how can it be so hard to find just one girl even halfway capable of pulling this off? _

“Is this the last three, Vlad?”

“Who were you expecting? Sarah Burnhardt?”

The young man redirected his attention to the women in front of him as another stepped forward, only to hang his head in disappointment once again at her over dramatic and yet under enthusiastic performance.

“Thank you, ladies, we’ll let you know.” He tried to herd the girls out of the theater but one stopped him.

“What you’re doing is against the law.”

“For this, we gave up our best hours on the street.”

“If you weren't so handsome, Dmitry, I’d report you.”

_ Says you and every other girl in Russia whose let me off the hook. _

He chased the girls out of the theater before resigning himself, staring hopelessly outside while Vlad spoke.

“Well, you tried, my friend. Anastasia’s don’t grow on trees.”

“I’m not giving up. I’ll go to Siberia to find an Anastasia.”

Vlad laughed. “Have you ever been to Siberia?”

“I’ve never been anywhere but here.” His voice was sadder than he intended.

“Ah,” Vlad lamented. “The day I took up with you.”

“It was me, or a Bolshevik firing squad.”

Vlad didn’t need reminding. “You saved my life.” He knew the young boy too well, enough to laugh at his remarks about kindness and character. The man knew that despite what Dmitry put up to the world, he was a caring man. As the boy fiddled with a music box, Vlad continued to muse to himself on his own character. That is, until there was a pounding on the theater doors.

“I knew it, those women ratted on us!’ Dmitry hid himself in a corner as Vlad ran into the next room.

“At least they’ll feed us in jail!”

The two remained hidden for a moment, until a girl’s voice broke through the silence.

“I’m looking for Dmitry.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is an improved version of this story I posted a few years ago, so if it seems like you've read this exact same fic in 2017, it's probably because you did


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